


Leap of Faith

by terraplan



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-11
Updated: 2011-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terraplan/pseuds/terraplan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assassins have more to live by than just the tenants of the Creed. They are not soulless killing machines devoid of any human feelings. There were some that Altaïr couldn’t imagine to go by without.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leap of Faith

There was a pleasant breeze where he crouched, hidden by the shadow of the bell tower. By the time the bell rang, Altaïr would be long gone. But for now, it was probably one of the best places to be, considering the punishing desert sun of middle morning.

It also provided him with a privileged view of the city’s _souq_. He observed the people move around immersed in their daily chores. Some were leisurely walking by, some were stressed and irritable and the merchants tried to engage them all.

After a while of absentminded observation, one merchant in particular caught his attention. He had a piece of wood in his hands and was carving it with short knife in careful, swift movements. There was a devotion to the task that didn’t come just from the pleasure of the task itself, Altaïr could tell. The reason became obvious to him as the piece of wood gained shape: it was a heart with wings. Love, then, was what was driving this man to dedicate himself so much to a mere piece of wood.

Love.

Altaïr contemplated the word. It held more of a romanticized meaning to him than an actual, concrete feeling. Love was something the innocent and the oblivious claimed to live for and live by. It was something everyone aspired to, yet very few seemed to experience it for long enough to provide proof for the greatness of the emotion. Some even seemed to suffer from it for long periods of time while maintaining a blind faith in its benefits.

Yes, it was definitively a foreign concept to him. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t value human relationships, though. Contrarily to popular belief, assassins had more to live by than just the tenants of the Creed. They were not soulless killing machines devoid of any human feelings. There were some that Altaïr couldn’t imagine to go by without.

Safety.

Safety was critical to his sanity. He spent the majority of his days looking over his shoulder, running from danger or constantly trying to find ways to avoid it. That feeling of reaching a safe harbor where he could finally let his guard down was what kept him from losing his mind to paranoia. Safety was something he felt most strongly when lying on the pillows of Jerusalem’s Bureau, lulled by the sound of water running on the fountain and the distant rustling of paper on the other side of the wall. Knowing that it was Malik who was in there, busy with his instruments of measurement and writing, gave him an added sense of peace. He could ease his mind into a contended slumber because he trusted Malik to watch over him.

Trust. Yes, trust was something he truly valued as well. Trust had to be earned and was built over time, like respect.

Respect wasn’t something he cherished much in his life until he lost it in Solomon’s Temple. Losing the respect of all his brothers had had a deep impact on him, although he denied such a thing for a long time, insisting he cared not for what others thought of him as long as he knew he was capable of doing his job. But as time passed, the weight of being regarded as a lesser man had taken its toll. Facing Malik had become particularly painful as he had taken for granted that he and Malik would always regard each other as equal. It had just never cross his mind that at some point Malik would think of him as a novice, as unreliable, as someone who would bring him sour memories and resentfulness.

Respect was fundamental in his life because he had had to work hard to get it back. And it had been worth it, for now Malik would look him straight in the eyes with nothing but warmth and pleasantness. He welcomed him in his bureau and in his heart. He wished him safety and peace not only with his words but also with his actions. It was there, when he extended his arm in a cheerful reception whenever he visited, when he tended to his wounds whenever Altaïr got too careless, when he clung at him in the deep of the night, gasping as if for dear life, wordlessly demanding more, more of Altaïr, more of everything. And it was as an equal that Altaïr complied, glad that Malik had given him the chance of becoming a better man, glad that he had taken a leap of faith of his own by believing that Altaïr could be redeemed. He tried to show his gratitude in the way he held Malik close for as long as he could, before the morning came and with it, the tribulations of an assassin’s life.

It was time for the bell to start singing his song, so Altaïr climbed higher, to the wooden pillar that would allow him to jump into an accommodating pile of hay. He contemplated the unthinkable distance to the ground, as he had so many times before.

Perhaps that was what love was. An unthinkable leap of faith.


End file.
